


to heal

by nigiyakapepper



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Family Feels, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Purring Keith (Voltron), Purring Krolia (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25587310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nigiyakapepper/pseuds/nigiyakapepper
Summary: They've spent a couple of months on the space whale. Keith learns his mother can purr and finds his own in the process.(The author also enthuses about Galran bathing habits.)
Relationships: Keith & Krolia (Voltron), Keith's Father/Krolia (Voltron)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 90





	to heal

**Author's Note:**

> sorry about the tense change. it just...sounds good? past tense is used bc i'm catching you guys up to when they're watching the flashback memory thing. once we get there, it's present tense.
> 
> i just really wanted to write a scene where mama purrs. i just had to get the speculating about bathing culture out the way first apparently lol

The flash caught them while they were scouting the land.

Keith and Krolia had discovered a stream on the space whale that had potable water. They decided to sit by it and rest, dip their toes in and refill their water canisters, let Kosmo splash around looking for something edible.

Krolia had been telling him about the more mundane parts of his heritage in between teaching him Galran and training – things she remembers from when she was younger, traditions that the Blade of Marmora strove to uphold in the wake of the Empire trying to eradicate them, stories from her grandmother whom she’d been living with on a little mining planet.

The vast number of varied tribes that inhabited Daibazaal and the distinctions between them that they passed down to their offspring – textures of skin, tails, fur, teeth, how many appendages their feet had and which of those had been borne on the genes of other species.

And bath houses. Oh stars, _the bath houses_. Daibazaal was already gone before Krolia was born, but her grandmother remembered. One of the prides of each stronghold were luxurious bath houses designed with the needs of the tribe in mind. For those with thick, dense coats, baths of the finest sand warmed by lava rock underneath were popular. Family members and friends would often sit and chat in adjacent rooms and groom each other. For those with scales, there were bath houses built around powerful waterfalls. Patrons would stay under them and relish the pressure on their backs. Depending on where you traveled, there were hot springs, mud pits, geysers, natural healing pools along with regional architecture.

“The way my grandmother spoke of them, you’d think they were grander than the warlord’s keep. In a way, they were. They were the seat of a community’s social life.”

“Mm, like cafes?” Keith asked, wiggling his toes in the water.

“A little like cafes. I wouldn’t be surprised if important decisions were made within bath houses,” Krolia said, wiggling hers too. “Though I couldn’t imagine it at the time.” At Keith’s look she had given a rueful smile. “How anyone found it practical to dally in the act of cleaning themselves.”

She had a point, Keith supposed. Most Galra would have grown up seeing it as a utilitarian task, and a quick one with the existence of sonic showers. The Blades Headquarters accommodated the various physiologies of their members well enough, and Keith was happy with his bars of soap.

“It wasn’t until I was on missions with the Blades that I learned how other cultures preserved and replicated Galran bath houses, or had their own,” Krolia continued. “Those of us off mission would sneak away to outposts that had saunas.”

“Really?” Her eyes crinkled prettily with laughter and Keith’s first instinct was to balk at the thought of any Blade sneaking off to indulge, but he remembered those he survived missions with and yes, given an opportunity, they totally would.

“Kolivan loves it, as did Thace, but he overheated quickly because of his fur. He used to enjoy the part where it took vargas to dry it out under the cooling systems.”

Keith decidedly pushed the image of Kolivan relaxing in a sauna away, along with the brief grief that came with Blades they lost. “What about you?”

“Hm?”

“D’you like them? Or …is it difficult to like, water-shower?” He winced at the awkwardness of his question. Their spacesuits recycled the wearer’s moisture and kept them sanitary enough indefinitely, but more than that, this relationship with his mother, only a few phoebs past, was still new and tentative. He didn’t know what was too personal or painful to talk about, how to reign himself in, much less know what to do about the warring sense of relief and comfort in finding her, and the resentment that went with it.

Krolia had smiled indulgently and Keith discomfort eased a fraction. “I can take them just fine. My skin is similar to yours. My hair takes some time to dry. Usually the hygiene supplies in our rations suffice.”

Keith had seen those. His own was befitting human fare. Others had bottles of fine dust, dry soap, or strange gels. He wondered what his mother’s was. He watched the water flow by their feet. Krolia had five toes, like him.

“The baths your father gave were the most luxurious things I’ve ever experienced.”

“Dad gave you baths?”

She laughed. “Not always. In times when he wanted to, and when I was bearing you.”

That made Keith look up. Krolia was staring at the stream with a soft look on her face, before she turned to him with a grin, like she was letting him in on a secret. “He had the fancy ones he purchased from the farmer’s market. Organic and ethically sourced, he said, compared to other amenities that were mass-manufactured.”

Keith knew what those were. They were his memories of growing up – going to the farmer’s market with his Pop on Saturdays, buying fresh produce they couldn’t grow at home, feeling the warmth of fry bread dusted with sugar on his too-small hands.

With a jolt, he realized before him was the only person who could possibly know about his life before his father died, before the foster homes, before Shiro. The knowledge was both damning and relieving.

His throat tight, he had asked, “Did he make you try the cactus juice?”

“Oh, he made me try everything,” Krolia chuckled. “I enjoyed tacos the most.”

“With venison?”

“With venison.”

Keith knew the bath stuff as well. It was made by his dad’s friend’s family, who had cosmetics as a hobby. He found himself scooting closer to his mother and taking a deep breath, as if she still held the scents he associated with a much younger version of home – white musk, shea butter, cloves – as the flash breached the horizon.

It’s one of the happier memories.

They watch a Krolia seated on the bed, bare legs swung off the edge, not so round with child just yet but getting there. Tex is kneeling behind her with a comb and a hairdryer, brushing her hair.

“Are y’sure I’m not pulling too hard?” he asks, and Keith’s heart twists in a now-familiar way every time he hears his father’s voice in these memories.

Krolia laughs, not unlike how it sounds in present day. “You keep asking and I keep telling you. It feels wonderful. I will tell you if it hurts, as impossible as that is.”

Tex indulgently presses a kiss to the top of her head, and something must take him by surprise since he lights up and practically dives back him, planting more kisses and sinking his large hands into her hair. Krolia simply laughs more and leans back into him.

“It’s so fluffy,” he says, awed, while petting her. She tips her head up to nuzzle against his cheek, and he nuzzles back in kind.

They stay like that for a while – Krolia looking peaceful with her eyes closed, both hers and her husband’s hands resting on the swell of her belly – before Keith hears it.

Tex hears it too.

Purring. Deliciously rumbly, low and long, indicative of a Galra in pure contentment. Tex chuckles and kisses the side of Krolia’s head, laughing more when the purr kicks up louder, as is she can’t help herself.

The memory fades.

Keith and Krolia are still seated by the stream. Their feet are still in the water. He's in her arms. He tries to ignore how hard she holds him, and the tears slipping into his hair. His heart is simultaneously full and hollow. He desperately wants to comfort her but he doesn’t know how. All he can do is deeply, viscerally understand how much she misses the man between them.

It kicks up then, a low vibration from beneath his ribs, building and building until Keith realizes what it is and stutters to a stop. But Krolia answers with her own powerful purr and they fall again into each other’s comfort.

It’s incredibly, deeply soothing. Keith has never felt something like it, a gentle force from within him and around him seeping calm into his bones. They part from the hug just so, just enough for Keith to curiously place a palm to his chest and onto Krolia’s, purring all the way.

She smiles at him.

Shaky as their relationship may still be, Keith feels they’re going to be okay.

**end**


End file.
